Ficmas In July
by Cordria
Summary: Four short story entries for ChaosDragon's Ficmas In July competition.
1. August: Boy

Updates on me:

I am engaged to the most awesome guy on the planet!

I bought a house. Ever watched 'Hoarders'? I bought that house. I'm on huge-ass dumpster number SIX clearing out their junk.

I'm now back at work. (sigh)

This is why the updates have been rather... slow.

Oh, and the next chapter of 'Plunge' is done, I just need to find time to upload it.

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Author's Note:

_This is a contest entry_. I'd appreciate your support! Go read the entries in the contest: www. ficmasinjuly. org/ submissions. htm (remove the spaces) and vote on your favorite!

We're busy looking for more authors to participate in the contest! If you're interested, check out the website for details. You get to win an Amazon Kindle!

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**Boy**

A Danny Phantom 'Ficmas In July' Entry by Cordria

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-August 4-

I am Boy. It's not really a name, but that's what Master calls me. He wants me to be someone else. I can't, so he calls me Boy.

There's no one to talk to here anymore. I'm afraid of the quiet. Perhaps this will keep the quiet away.

I'm hungry too. I hope Master remembers to feed me today, even though I'm still myself.

.

-August 5-

Today Master took me outside. It was really neat. The sun was shining and I saw a bird flying overhead. I wanted to chase it, to fly, but Master said no. I stayed on the ground and watched it for awhile, but then I forgot what Master said.

He was mad when he had to come get me out of the tree. He hurt me and locked me back in the dark room for hours. Now I remember not to fly, but I guess it's too late.

I wish I could remember better. Master says I should be able to, but I can't. I can't be someone else and remembering things slip out of my head like butter. Sometimes they come back, but usually they don't. Master says it's my fault.

I guess it must be, because he's Master and I'm just Boy, but I don't remember what I did.

I had peanut butter and jelly for lunch. I had to make it myself, but it turned out okay.

.

-August 6-

Master was mad today. Not at me, but at his computer. He spent the whole day screaming and cursing at it. I think he even broke his foot when he kicked it really hard.

I think Master's mad about the boy that died a week ago. I remember how sick he was. I stood over him and watched him die and I still dream about what he looked like. His skin was so pale and broken and bloody. It was like he was made of mud that was slowly drying up, cracking and breaking.

Master cried the day the other boy died. He didn't cry today though. He just got mad. I tried to stay away from him, but he told me to get a water for him. I was so nervous I spilled some and Master hit me so hard the room spun around and around. Then I had to spend an hour inside the dark room. My wrists still hurt from that.

I want to go outside again. Maybe I can sneak out when Master falls asleep tonight and sit and watch the stars. For some reason, I dream about stars at night. I dream that the boy who died is flying in the stars. I wish I could too.

.

-August 7-

Today was the best day I can remember. Master left early this morning to go to a special meeting of sad people. He had to dress all in black and carry flowers. He brought the picture of the dead boy with him and told me to stay home and be good. He told me what would happen if I wasn't.

I got to eat cookies today, as many as I could find. There were lots because Master has a big kitchen and he likes cookies. I even found the ones hiding in his desk. Those were the best ones.

Then I went outside and sat in the sunshine in the morning. Master says I need to get out more, that I'm too pale to be healthy, but he's the one that doesn't let me outside. My skin is hurting now, because I fell asleep in the chair. It was warm and the birds were singing. I hope Master gets home soon so he can tell me how to fix it. And my stomach, because it's kind of hurting too.

I even made him a picture. I glued leaves onto a piece of paper and drew in trees and birds. It looks really pretty. I'm sure Master will hang it up in his office or something. I worked really hard on it.

After lunch, I tried to remember to do all my chores. I couldn't remember them all, but I got five of them. Well, four, because I couldn't find the mop to wash the floor with. It's not where it used to be. But I did remember I was supposed to mop the floor.

Now it's almost supper. Master said he'd be home in time for supper. I don't know how to make supper, but I'm not very hungry. My stomach hurts. I hope he doesn't make much for me to eat.

.

-August 8-

It was a dark room day. I don't even know why Master was so angry with me. He woke me up this morning and dragged me into the dark room without even saying a word.

I hate the dark room. It's too quiet. Even the house isn't as quiet as the dark room. All you can hear in there is yourself and you can't see your own hands.

He chained me up this time too – so I must have really been bad. My wrists are still bleeding. I wish I knew what it was I'd done wrong. But when I asked when he brought me lunch, all he did was hit me and tell me to shut up. That I sounded wrong, that I looked wrong, that I wasn't right.

Then he said it was all my fault that I wasn't right. And he cried too while he said it.

That's not the first time he's said that. I still don't know why I'm not right. I feel fine.

He says that the other boy wouldn't have died if I'd been right. That I killed him.

So I spent the rest of the day in the dark room. I hate the dark room, but it's where murderers belong. I'm not sure how I killed the other boy, since all I did was watch him when he was really sick, but Master said I did. I wish I knew what I did to kill him.

Master took me out and cleaned up my wrists and ankles when the sun went down. He hurt me again. Then he left and told me to be quiet and sleep.

I didn't get to give him my picture. Maybe I won't, now. He probably doesn't want something from a murderer.

.

-August 9-

Master isn't talking to me. He brought me breakfast and didn't even look at me once. I followed him into the lab, to help, but he didn't ask me to do anything.

The only time today he even noticed I was there was when I forgot to move and he almost tripped over me. Then he kicked me, but he didn't say anything.

I think I liked him better when he was screaming at me. At least I knew what he was thinking.

.

-August 10-

He's still not talking to me. He spent a lot of time on the phone today, the entire time he was glaring at me and motioning for me to be absolutely quiet. I pouted, because I remember that rule. Nobody is to know I'm here, because I'm special.

I'm a special murderer, or something.

At least he's not completely ignoring me. I'd hate that, if I had to go through another day of being ignored. It's the only thing worse than the dark room I can imagine – being invisible like that.

On the phone he talked about gravestones and the 14th. I listened really closely, but I don't remember anything else anymore. Oh, and he kept telling the person on the line to relax, that he was there to help, that everything would be okay. Master sounded so nice when he said that. I smiled at him.

When he got off the phone, Master took me into the fighting room and beat me up. I couldn't do anything against him. He broke my nose, I think, because I still can't breathe out of it.

It was a good lesson. I'll remember the rule now.

Don't smile at Master.

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-August 11-

There's something wrong with Master. He forgot my name today. I'm Boy. I've always been Boy.

Today, he called me Badger. He got so mad when he did that, screaming at me that it's my fault the other boy died. I think the other boy might have been Badger. I'm not sure that's really a name either, but I didn't ask Master about it.

He twisted my arm behind my back and threw me into the dark room. At least he forgot to chain me up before he slammed the door shut. Normally, the dark room is really quiet, but today the door bounced back open a little because he slammed it so hard. I could hear things on the other side.

Master was crying. I crawled to the door and sat there, staring at the tiny crack of light, listening to Master sob. I wanted to pull the door open and go out and give him a hug, because that's what I want when I'm crying, but I didn't. Master wouldn't have liked that. Master's not like me.

When he left, I didn't know what to do. Master never leaves the door to the dark room open. It's a punishment, he says. I didn't know if I should push the door closed or just leave it. I wanted to go ask Master, but I wasn't supposed to leave.

I pushed the door closed, knowing that's what Master wanted. Then I just sat there and waited. When Master came to get me, that's when I found out there was really something wrong with Master.

He pulled me to my feet and gave me a hug. Then he went back to normal and screamed at me and ordered me to get him supper.

I'm worried about Master. I think his mind might be sick.

.

-August 12-

Master had company today, which meant I had to hide. I'm the special secret, remember. But I watched them. I don't like it when there are strangers in Master's house.

One of them had red hair and the other one had black hair. The black-haired man was huge and scary, but the red-haired woman was worse. I knew she was dangerous when I saw here, but I almost left my hiding spot when I saw how red her eyes were. They were hurt.

I thought maybe Master had hurt them, but he pulled the woman into a hug – something he doesn't do when he hurts me. And he shook hands with the man. I don't know why. Then they talked and talked and talked.

They went through the whole box of tissues, Master telling them just to leave the used ones on the table. I wrinkled my nose at that, because I was the one who'd have to clean them up. I don't even like strangers in Master's house, much less like cleaning up their snot.

It took me hours to figure out why the strangers were crying. It took until the woman jumped to her feet and started screaming and yelling like Master does, about how her danny was dead and gone, that I figured it out. I watched carefully, waiting for the woman to hurt Master the way he hurts me, ready to save him, but the woman just screamed and screamed until she collapsed on the couch and cried some more.

I wonder if that's why Master is talking to them. They lost a danny and he lost Badger. Maybe they are both hurting and can help each other.

When they finally left, I stayed away from Master until he screamed for me. I must have taken too long to show up, because he hurt me when I got there. He yelled about how I was wrong and how the danny would still be alive if it weren't for me.

He forgot to lock me up in the dark room, but that's okay because I hurt so much I can't get out of bed. I think he hurt something inside of me.

I wanted to ask him, but I never could. So now I just have to wonder and wait and try to figure it out. Or maybe I'll forget about it tonight, like I forget so much. But for tonight, I remember what I want to ask:

What's a danny?

.

-August 13-

I can't get out of bed today. My side hurts and it's starting to make my head hurt too. Master came and screamed at me and hit my head, but I couldn't even stand up. Master left me alone after awhile and I crawled back into bed.

Breakfast didn't stay down like it should have. Now it's on the floor. It smells horrible, but I can't clean it up.

Master showed back up at lunch and looked me over. He was worried about me, which was nice for a change. He petted my forehead and got me a glass of water. The he gave me some pills, which made me sleepy and took the pain away.

My chest is all wrapped up in bandages that make it hard for me to breathe. Master says it's good for me and will help make me better, so I don't pull them off. But I don't like them.

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-August 14-

Master dressed up again today and left me alone, lying in my bed. He brought me food this morning and told me he'd be gone all day, and to be good. I'm supposed to stay in bed and rest.

When he left, he called me Badger again, like 'goodbye Badger'. I don't think he noticed.

I'm beginning to think he loved Badger. I think his mind is hurt, now that Badger is gone and dead. I think I'm here to make his mind better, because Master needs help. So that's what I spent the day doing: coming up with ways to fix Master's mind.

There wasn't much that I came up with. I don't remember much about Badger, other than he was very sick and Master was very sad and angry when he died. I'm not sure anything that I came up with will help, but I need to try.

When Master came home, his eyes were red from crying and he hugged me and held me close. He told me that the danny had a beautiful headstone and was happy and safe. That the danny didn't feel pain and was sleeping peacefully.

I don't care about the danny. When I asked if Badger was happy and safe too, Master told me that he was. That everyone went to a place where they were happy and safe after they died.

I liked that. I asked if I'd go there too, but Master got mad at me for that. He pushed me away and hit me on the head and told me that I didn't deserve to be happy and safe. That the danny was dead because of me.

That was a new one for me. I didn't just kill Badger. I killed the danny too.

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-August 15-

I got out of bed today. My side still hurts, but it feels much better than before. I walked down to the dark room and sat inside, pushing the door closed.

I didn't eat breakfast or lunch. I killed two people. I deserved to be punished.

Master came and found me just before supper. He was mad at me, but he didn't hit me or scream at me. He wanted to know why I was sitting in the dark room and crying. I didn't want to answer him, because I didn't want to remind him I was a murderer. But he just asked again, angrier. So I answered.

He told me that I was right, that I deserved the dark room for what I'd done. Then he told me that I was a monster and he slammed the door shut and locked it.

Now I can't get out. The walls are special so I can't walk through them. Master didn't bring me supper and now it's getting late. I'm tired and want to go to bed.

I want Master to come and rescue me, but he doesn't. He just leaves me in the dark and the quiet. I hate the quiet.

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-August 16-

Master came and let me out this morning. He told me to clean up and get something to eat, because I was hungry and had used the corner for a bathroom. My side really hurts this morning after sleeping on the ground and I have to limp up to the bathroom.

Master's eyes are still red. I think he cries when I'm not looking. He really misses Badger. I wish I could have saved Badger instead of killing him.

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-August 17-

Today was a bad day for me. I had a hard time remembering things. I still hurt from being in the dark room yesterday, which didn't help anything. The things Master was telling me to do kept slipping out of my mind after he told me to do them.

I don't like asking twice, because Master hates that. But I have to, because I don't remember what to do. There's almost nothing I can do to stop Master from being mad at me and hurting me. I wish he'd send me away, but he doesn't. He keeps me there to help.

Master finally got so mad he locked me in the dark room again. It still smells of the bathroom I had to make in the corner. Master gave me an extra punch for that, I think, after he chained me up.

I was there the rest of the day. Master finally came to get me right before bed. I was hungry, but he told me to go to sleep.

Now I can't sleep, because my stomach is rumbling. It makes my side hurt.

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-August 18-

Master was gone when I woke up this morning. I searched for him for a long time before I realized I was alone. I was starving, so I got some breakfast, and sat outside in the sunshine.

I've never been alone like this before, with Master not telling me what to do. I'm not sure what to do today, so I just sat there and watched the birds fly around.

I didn't see the woman until it was too late. I was watching a bird, wishing I could go chase it but knowing I couldn't, when she walked up and around the corner and saw me. That's bad, because I'm a special secret. Nobody can know I'm here.

She didn't talk to me, because I disappeared when I saw her staring at me. I didn't know what else to do. But I didn't leave, because I was worried about why a stranger was near Master's house.

It took awhile before I remembered that she was the one from before, with the red hair and the danny. The scary one that screams but doesn't hurt. She looked around, then called out for the danny. She started to cry again, but she left.

Master didn't come home for supper, and now it's time to go to bed. I'm worried about where he's gone. What if he doesn't come back? Or what if he's died like Badger and the danny did? Would I have to make him a gravestone and make sure he was safe and happy?

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-August 19-

The woman is back. She's sitting on the front steps of Master's house, holding a picture in her hands and staring out at the trees. I'm kind of annoyed because I wanted to sit out there and eat breakfast again, since Master is still gone. I stand by the door, my cereal getting soggy, and glare at her.

Finally I give up and go find somewhere else to sit. It's not as nice as the front steps. I hope the woman doesn't stay long.

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-August 20-

Master was back this morning. He seemed very tired and quiet when I found him sitting at the table. He said 'good morning', which he doesn't ever do to me. I got the nerve to ask him where he'd been and he told me 'japan'.

I don't know where a japan is, but I was annoyed that he didn't tell me he was going. I don't tell him though, because he wouldn't like that and he seems angry enough already.

He quietly worked through the day, not talking to me at all. I left after awhile to do my chores, only to find the woman sitting on the front steps again. I go invisible and walk out to stare at her.

Her eyes are as red as Master's are, most mornings since Badger died. The picture in her hands is Badger's picture – it looks almost exactly like the picture Master has. She is rocking back and forth and waiting. I think I should go tell Master that the woman is here, but I don't. He's not in a good mood today. I'll chase the woman away.

'Who are you?' I ask her, turning visible and glaring at her. She looks up at me and cries. I don't know why she's crying, but I don't like watching people cry, so I run back into the house.

I think I made a mistake.

.

-August 21-

Master is very mad at me today. He found out that I talked to the woman yesterday, and that she saw me while he was at the japan. He put me in the dark room and shortened my chains so I can't sit down. And he turned on the music, the one that hurts my ears so much.

I tried to ask him why the woman was so sad when she saw me, but he doesn't answer me. He just punches me in the stomach and slams the door, leaving me to the music and the darkness.

I spend the whole day with the image of the woman's eyes in my head. They haunt me and I don't know why. I wish they would go away so I could dream of the stars again.

.

-August 22-

The woman isn't going to come back, Master said so. He told me that I'd hurt her, almost killed her, and that she couldn't ever come here again. I feel bad about it, because I'm not sure what I did. All I did was ask her what her name was. I ask Master who she is, but he doesn't answer. He just repeats that if anyone else ever sees me, he will kill me.

I believe him, and I don't ever want the woman to come back here, but I also want to know more about her. There was something special in the way she stared at me and screamed for the danny. I want to know more about it.

Master went downstairs after breakfast and told me behave. I'm pretty sure I did, but Master still came running upstairs before breakfast and kicked me and locked me in the dark room again. He wouldn't tell me what I'd done wrong.

.

-August 23-

I did something very, very bad today, and I'm scared. I'm not even sure why I did it. It's not something I ever did before. But that's just how I woke up – doing something very bad.

I went to sleep last night in my bed, but I woke up this morning in a tree. Now I can't find Master or his house, no matter how hard I look. I don't know how I got here or what I'm going to do.

I'm scared. I'm so scared I'm crying and holding onto the tree and can't let go. I'm screaming for Master to come and save me, to find me, but he doesn't come. The sun rises into the sky, and my voice gets hoarse. The sun starts to go back down again, and I can't even scream. By the time the sun sets, I'm so tired I climb down out of the tree and just start walking.

I don't know where I'm going.

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-August 24-

It's been a whole day since I last saw Master. I wonder if he's angry at me or if he's scared. I don't know if he's searching for me, but I hope he is. I want to go home, even if it's to the dark room.

I can barely move, I'm so tired and hungry. I find a tree and fall asleep in the shade. By the time I wake up, it's almost dark.

I don't like the dark. It's too quiet.

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-August 25-

Master is going to kill me. Slowly, painfully, and then make sure I don't get to sleep and be peaceful when I die. I'm not a special secret anymore.

This morning, I found people. They were sitting around a fire, eating breakfast, and I was so hungry I went invisible and tried to take some. But I was too tired, I guess, because I wasn't really invisible. They could see me just fine. They weren't scared of me, even though I'm a murderer. They gave me breakfast for free – I didn't even have to do chores for it.

Now I'm sitting in a warm thing the people call an ambulance. I don't like people seeing me and knowing I'm there, but they wrapped a warm blanket around me and they're giving me hot chocolate to drink. I take the hot chocolate but I tell them they can't know I'm here, because I'm a special secret and Master will kill me if he finds out.

They take me for a ride, which I don't like, and bring me to a large house full of strange smells and people. I get asked all kinds of questions, like what my name is and where I came from and why my body is so hurt. I don't answer, because I'm already in enough trouble. When the man in the blue suit starts to get mad at me, I close my eyes and wait for him to hurt me. He doesn't, so I open my eyes to find me staring at me with tears in his eyes. I ask him if he's going to put me in the dark room. He just shakes his head and leaves me alone.

I tell them I need to get back to Master. That he's going to hurt me if I don't get back there soon, but they ignore me and tell me I'm safe and that he's not going to hurt me ever again. I don't believe them, but they give me some food to eat because I'm hungry and I get sleepy.

I hope Master doesn't show up while I'm sleeping.

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-August 26-

The woman is back. I can see her through the window of my room. She's angry and arguing with the people in the hallway. She wants to come in and see me. She keeps calling me her danny, which doesn't make any sense since the danny is dead.

Finally she leaves and everything is quiet. I get to watch TV, which is fun because Master doesn't let me, but then the man in the blue suit comes back to ask me some more questions. I ask him if Master is coming to get me, and he tells me that Master doesn't know I'm here. I want him to call Master and tell him, but the man doesn't know who Master is. I describe Master, which gets the man mad, and he leaves.

I don't think he's going to call Master and have him come get me.

.

-August 27-

There's a stranger in my new room today. She sits on the edge of the chair and keeps pressing her hands on her legs. She wants to talk to me, to tell me some things. She wants me to talk back. I don't want to.

They found Master for me, she says. I look up at her and wait for her to tell me when Master is coming to get me. Then she says that Master did something called 'resisting arrest'. He tried to hurt the men that went to talk to him and Master was killed.

I don't know how to take that. I sit there for a long time, staring at her, then I ask her if it's my fault. She asks me why I'd think so, and I tell her that I killed the danny and Badger already, and almost the red-haired woman who cries and sits on Master's front steps.

Then she says something really strange. She says I'm the danny. And 'Badger' was the nickname that Master had given to the danny. That I really hadn't killed anyone. I told her I saw Badger die, but she doesn't believe me.

She spends the rest of the time sitting there, calling me the danny and asking me questions.

I don't answer them, because I am Boy, not the danny.

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-August 28-

I left the strange place today. I snuck out just before the sun rose into the sky. The people there were too weird, calling me the danny and telling me that Master was dead. I don't believe that.

I flew up really high, which I know I'm not supposed to do, but I found Master's house that way. I really wasn't very far away, which was good because I was tired after flying so high.

The house was empty. Master wasn't home. I went into his office to find some cookies, because I was hungry, and I saw the giant blood stain on the carpet.

I spent the rest of the day in the dark room. I didn't know what else to do.

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-August 29-

The man in the blue suit and the red-haired woman were sitting in Master's lab when I finally got so hungry I had to leave the dark room. I froze when I saw them, not knowing what to do. Both of them looked at me and didn't say anything.

Finally, the woman asked me what my name was. I looked at her strangely, because I didn't have a name. I said so. I told her that Master had just called me Boy.

She told me that she didn't want me to stay here, not all by myself. That she was scared that I would get hurt. The man nodded at that, crossing his arms. I sat down on the floor. She said that she wanted me to come stay at her house.

I asked her if she was going to be my new Master.

There was a lot of silence, but she shook her head. Then she said that I wasn't ever going to have a Master ever again, that I could be my own Master. I didn't like the sound of that, so I stood up and started to leave, but she asked me to wait.

She said that I looked just like her son, the danny. I told her I wasn't him, that I watched him die. That Master said that the danny died because I wasn't good enough and that I wasn't right.

She thought that I was fine, but she's the woman and Master is Master. I disappeared and went upstairs to find some food, then went back to the dark room.

.

-August 30-

The woman is still there, in the lab, waiting for me to show up. The black-haired man is there too, now. They're both sitting in chairs, talking to each other. I can hear them.

I don't know what to do. There is a pizza sitting on the floor of the lab – my favorite kind, pepperoni and pineapple – and my mouth is watering. But I don't want to talk to the two people.

So I sit there, smelling pizza, and watching them talk. Master doesn't like food in the lab, not when it's not his food. I think I should get up and go take it away, but then I remember that Master is dead, that's why they're sitting in the lab.

I can't stay here forever, but I don't know what else to do.

.

-August 31-

Today I talked to them. They called me Boy instead of the danny, and they told me that I couldn't stay here any longer. I needed to go with them. They had a room ready for me.

I ask them if they're going to be my new Master, since Master is dead. They nod, after awhile, and say they're going to try. The woman cries while she says that, and I'm not sure why.

The man holds out his hand and grabs mine. I wait for him to squeeze hard enough to hurt, but he doesn't. He just gently tugs on my arm and starts to pull me towards the stairs. Come on, he says.

I go, and I don't look back.

.

.

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Please go vote! www. ficmasinjuly. org/ submissions. htm (remove spaces)


	2. Sept: Forgiveness is the Start of Life

**_This is a contest entry_. I'd appreciate your support! Go read the entries in the contest: www. ficmasinjuly. org/ submissions. htm (remove the spaces) and vote on your favorite!**

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><p><em>He didn't really mean to do it.<em>

_They didn't really mean to do what they did either._

_The swear words that flew from his mouth as he stormed away from them weren't really what he meant._

_He didn't really mean to leave them standing there, staring, with their mouths dangling open, their guns dropping from their limp hands, with the universe unraveling around them._

_When he never came back, he didn't really mean it._

_But that's what he did anyways._

_Too bad it came back to haunt him._

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><p><strong>Forgiveness is the Start of Life<strong>  
>A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria<p>

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><p><em>Danny Phantom. A strange creature that appeared right around the turn of the millennium. It hung around Amity Park for a few years, then disappeared again. <em>

_Some thought it an evil spirit. There was never any direct proof that the creature itself was evil, but there is a definite up-tick in evil activity in the area during the years it existed in Amity Park._

_Others thought it was a good spirit, something of an angel, there to fight the evil. When the evil went away, so did the good spirit._

"Blah, blah, blah," Danny muttered, scrolling quickly through the seemingly endless dictionary entry on his computer, simply scanning the rest. Almost all the information in there was either completely made-up or completely wrong. "What a waste of time."

"It's not a waste of time," came the sour voice of his companion.

Danny looked up with a sigh. He ran his fingers through his white hair and settled on a cross look. His mouth opened with a snappy comeback, but the younger man sitting next to him at the café spoke first.

"It's the first _real _clue we've had in days. Sure, this stuff is boring and whatever, but we need to follow it." The young man had deceptively soft, cow-like brown eyes. He turned them on Danny, pleading with him. "Come on, you said I could take the lead on this case."

Lips tightening, Danny closed his eyes for a moment, then nodded. "Fine. Sure. I just don't understand how you can believe that guy. He's old-"

"Old doesn't make him wrong," the other man countered.

Danny nodded in agreement. "But he mentioned the FBI spying on him every other sentence…" Danny trailed off, waiting for the retort, but his friend simply shrugged a bit. "…and he wrote 'June' on his check when he made it out-"

"It's hard to keep the months straight." There was no conviction in those words, however, because the raging blizzard outside took that moment to loudly rattle the windows. The young man had the politeness to flush a little and hunch his shoulders before looking up at Danny with a bit of a sparkle to his eye. "How did you notice something like that?"

Danny shrugged and set his elbows on the table, cradling his hands around a steaming cup of hot chocolate. "I just don't get it, Jerrod. How is a two-hundred-years dead spirit going to solve this case?"

The hunched shoulders hunched a bit farther, the young man tapping desolately at his keyboard. "I… don't know, Danny. It's just… he gave the right _description_…"

"So could I," Danny answered, gesturing at the picture on the screen. "And I certainly haven't seen this Phantom thing."

"Then what do we do next?" Jerrod's voice was soft and unsure.

Danny glanced over at his young friend, noting the way Jerrod was staring down at his keyboard, and took a sip of his hot chocolate. The corner of his nose twitched at the taste. It wasn't _quite_ right. But then, nobody made hot chocolate just right anymore.

Nobody had made him a good cup of hot chocolate since…

Danny shook his head, jarring the thought from his brain. He really needed to stop drinking hot chocolate. That, along with the whole 'Phantom' topic they were on, was causing his thoughts to veer a bit too heavily down memory lane. Setting down the cup with a bit more force than he meant to, he answered Jerrod's question the only way a mentor should. "Don't know. You're the one on lead. Maybe you should find a clue."

Jerrod's eyes cut to him and narrowed but – as always – the cow-like look to them completely ruined the 'angry' effect. "Danny," the young man snapped.

Laughing a little, Danny turned to his computer and started to scroll through the information on the screen. "Or maybe," Danny mussed, barely loud enough for his companion to hear him, "you should grow a backbone and follow your hunch." As the young man buried his face in his hands, Danny went back to scanning some of the information being displayed in front of him. He couldn't help the small shake of his head at some of the more ludicrous bits of knowledge.

"Just… do what I asked you do," Jerrod finally muttered. "Please, Danny."

"Alright," Danny agreed. "You the boss."

Jerrod looked up, his shoulders straightening. Danny bit back a smile at the thought of how easily it was to mess with the young man's ego. How long had it been since he'd been that gullible? "That's right, I'm the boss," Jerrod parroted happily, settling his fingers back on the keyboard.

"Doesn't mean it's not a waste of time."

.

.

Danny Caliber. That's what his current name was, or at least what his driver's license said. There were times that he forgot. Like now, watching the lady at the supermarket examine his signature.

"Um…" the woman said, blinking uncertainly and squinting in an unflattering way.

Danny tensed a little, waiting for her to scream for a manager and then have to spend an hour spinning lies for the store as to why he'd written 'Danny Bergerson' on the screen. But the lady simply shrugged, okayed the transaction, and smiled at him. "Have a nice night," she chirped.

"I will." Danny grabbed his small bag of groceries and walked out into the night. A car slurped past in the snow as Danny pulled his jacket closer to his body and set off towards his house. The next time the wind howled down the street, nearly taking a older couple off their feet, it blew right through Danny's body.

Not that anyone noticed. It was one of the things Danny liked most about the human race, and especially about the humans that lived in the bigger cities. Nobody ever seemed to notice the little things.

He shivered slightly, picking up the pace. He stomach was starting to complain about the lack of an actual lunch and he knew there was a hot supper waiting for him in his apartment.

He paused for a moment outside one of the more run-down apartments on his block, glancing up towards a window on the third floor. He could see the silhouette of his "apprentice" pacing back and forth in the window.

Jerrod Manson. He'd allowed the young man into his office for the stupid reason that his face had seemed somewhat familiar and the kid had been completely lost. Generally he ran from anything that was even remotely recognizable. He'd found himself neatly talked into having a shadow within a few minutes, long before he'd known the man's last name.

The wind howled, blowing Danny's jacket around and forcing a handful of snow down his jacket. He shivered and shook his head, hunching his shoulders and hurrying down the sidewalk towards the safety of his home.

The kid was more helpful then not. And perhaps Danny was allowing him to stick around because he felt like he owed something to the family. Perhaps not, because Danny hadn't quite decided, but perhaps. But any way it shook out, Danny was getting used to having a regular source of company again.

Danny made it the requisite number of doors and pushed his way inside, stomping the snow off his boots before making his way upstairs. "Hi," he said to an old lady sitting on the steps near the third floor. She didn't answer.

Sticking his key in the door of the second apartment on the forth floor, Danny set down the bag of groceries and glanced around. He pressed his hand to the door and muttered something under his breath. A slight green glow swirled out from around his fingers, forming strange, alien-like symbols on the door.

The he turned the key, grabbed his groceries, and stepped inside. Inside was a whole new world.

Every other apartment was a small, one-bedroom, run-down thing with bugs and half-broken appliances. Danny vaguely remembered that his 'real' apartment looked like that too. Fortunately for him, one of the first things he'd done after signing the lease as to change the apartment door to a portal. Danny's apartment door was in the human world, his home in the ghost zone.

The groceries went into the kitchen, simply being dropped on the counter while Danny stretched and felt his back pop and settle. There was nothing in there that would spoil if left for a few hours. It was time to relax.

"The human world's still a mess, boy," he muttered, tapping a finger against a small bird cage. The glowing creature inside picked up its head and ruffled a few ghostly feathers before going back to sleep. "But I'm kinda liking it. Think I should hang around this time?"

With no answer coming from the sleeping bird, Danny shucked off his coat and boots, slumped into the living room, and dropped onto his couch. Two hundred years of living in this house had allowed the couch to form perfectly to his wants and desires. It was just the right amount of soft. He relaxed against the cushions, closing his eyes.

Not for long, though. His latest case was spread out across the coffee table and it called to him. It was something new and different. Generally, he survived off the scrabble of spying on cheating wives and delivering notices to the undesirable. Occasionally finding a run-away teen the parents didn't really want back in the first place. Perhaps a few lost items here and there. Nothing like this.

His fingers moved towards the photograph, picking it up. There was no mistaking the identity of the person standing there, holding a blood knife, standing over a brutally murdered family of five that had been walking home from a movie. A mom, a dad, and three kids. One little girl with thick, red hair was still clutching a small teddy bear. No fuzzy pictures or static-filled video stills in the twenty-third century.

It was him. There was nothing else to it. Danny Phantom.

Danny could barely take his eyes off the ghostly form long enough to take in the tortured expressions on the family's faces. The ghost in the picture had even been nice enough to look up at the camera, almost like he'd been posing for the picture.

The only problem was that Danny knew for sure Phantom hadn't been anywhere near the scene. He _was_ Phantom, after all. And, to be quite honest, Phantom didn't look anything like the ghost in the picture anymore.

His fingers brushed over the messy white hair, the glowing green eyes, and the odd-looking turn-of-the-millennium 'super hero' costume. The ghost looked to be a teenager, sixteen at the most, with all the bravado and physique that came with it. Two hundred years ago, Danny and the ghost could have been mistaken as twins.

Danny glanced up into his television, studying his reflection. His white hair was considerably shorter, almost tamed. His green eyes held a glow that was really only visible in the dark. And, although he still preferred the black and white color combination, the skin-tight look was long gone. Of course, he wasn't a teenager anymore either. He looked twenty-something.

He ran his tongue over his teeth and picked up the picture again. The options as to how this could have happened were endless. Only, every thought was neatly wrapped up with a 'nope'. It wasn't photo manipulation. It wasn't a hologram. It wasn't some sort of clone. Danny was _almost_ positive it wasn't a ghost. He was a little less positive about the idea that it was himself from the past, come with some message from Clockwork, but still very positive it wasn't.

Long moments passed as he stared at the picture, tapping his fingers against it now and then. The bird in the cage slept. A clock on the mantle ticked forwards a few seconds, then backwards for a minute, then skipped ahead an hour. The groceries on the counter mysteriously put themselves away.

Then Danny's stomach growled and he remembered that he was hungry. Just at that moment the microwave dinged. Supper was ready.

.

.

"I found a clue."

Danny looked up from the desk at his office, blinking at his young friend. The door to the office clicked shut and Jerrod dropped into the free chair. Danny arched a dubious eyebrow. "Finally. What is it?"

Jerrod grinned and held up a crinkled envelope. It smelled dank and moldy. It was ancient, brown with age, and actually had a postage stamp stuck to it. No date, though. It hadn't ever been sent. "It's a letter."

"A _letter_." Danny let annoyance flit into his voice. "How old is it?"

"'Bout two hundred years." Jerrod carefully set it on the desk, pushing it slowly towards Danny. "I found it at the scene of the crime last night. See who it's addressed to? But better yet, see what the return address says?"

Danny didn't bother to glance down. "So… you broke into the scene of a mass murder took evidence as to the identity of the murderer. That'll go down well."

As Jerrod mouthed a few times, sitting back in his chair and blinking, Danny reached out and grabbed the envelope, twisting it around and reading the label. He froze.

"It can't _really_ mean anything to the police, right?" Jerrod said uncertainly. "I mean, it's two _hundred_ years old, right? The police wouldn't want it… right?"

Danny stared down at the neat handwriting, the careful printing, and the strange spider-ish symbol instead of the 'O'. In two hundred years, he'd only seen one person who'd written just like that. But there was no way…

"Danny?"

Danny looked up at his white-faced friend. "I'm sure you're fine," Danny said distractedly. "It's just a letter, right?" He picked up the envelope and ran his fingers over the address. Then he flipped it over and pulled out the letter tucked inside. The letter was creased and bent and smudged. It had obviously been fondled and read a hundred times.

"Did you see who wrote it?" Jerrod asked. "Samantha Manson. I looked her up. Did you know she was one of my more-famous ancestors?"

"I saw," Danny said softly, unfolding the letter.

It was short.

_Danny – _

_It wasn't your fault. Come home._

_- Sam_

"Do you think one of my ancestors knew Danny Phantom?" Jerrod asked. "I mean, the letter is addressed to him, right? And she wrote it."

Danny wasn't really listening. It wasn't like Sam to write such a short note when so much needed to be said. She never talked a lot, but when she had a soap-box to stand on, God help anyone within earshot.

No, there was more to this letter than that.

"Go home, Jerrod."

There was startled bit of silence, then a soft, "What?"

Danny looked up from the letter, his eyes hard. "Go home." Danny carefully slotted the letter back into the envelope and gently put it into his pocket. He pulled on his jacket and headed towards the door.

Jerrod stumbled to his feet. "Why? Danny, this is a clue…"

"Yes, it is." Danny held open the door and waited.

"I'm on lead." Jerrod folded his arms and glared at him. "Something's wrong and you have to tell me."

Danny's teeth clenched. He'd spent so much time with ghosts over the past century that he'd forgotten how stubborn and stupid humans could be. "I'm done playing games with you." Danny let go of the door and stalked off. His hands went into his pocket, his fingers playing with the letter.

Behind him, the door to his office banged open. "Hey! I'm the one that found that letter!"

Danny had long since given up completely returning to his human side. It hurt too much, after what happened. So he found it easy to step around a corner and simply disappear.

A letter in his pocket, the sky to his back, and a mystery waiting for him at home.

.

.

There were two problems with unraveling the secret to the letter. The first was its age. The paper was brittle and tore easily with even the slightest wrong movement. The second was the hundred different ways Sam could have hidden a message on the paper. Because of this, Danny spent about an hour sitting on his couch, staring at the envelope.

When he finally started working, Danny carefully spread the paper out on his coffee table, pushing the case he'd been working off to the side for a moment. The case meant nothing, deserving of being a pile of paper on the floor. He ran his eyes over the words in the letter, searching for a hidden meaning. Could it be some sort of CSI-type riddle? Or maybe invisible ink. Or possibly…

The door rattled. Danny closed his eyes and sighed. "Go away," he called. Normally, sounds didn't pass through the portal into the human world. But this time, they did.

"No. I want to see what's on that letter."

Danny buried his face in his hands, pressing the palms of his hands hard against his eyelids. Sparks burst into life. "I don't have time for this," he breathed. He sat back and stared up at the vaulted ceiling of his apartment, gazing up at the ghostly facsimile of the stars.

The door rattled again. "Danny!" came a furious call. "I thought we were friends!"

That last word cut deep, especially with the letter from Sam sitting on the coffee table. It was the problem with going back to the human world: relationships. Ties of friendship. Visible cords that grew around his neck and pulled him towards the human world, choking him when he tried to flee.

He'd managed to cut those cords once. He reached up and felt for the vine around his neck, tying him to the descendent of his long-dead best friend. It was thicker than Danny remembered.

"Fine, fine," Danny muttered, getting to his feet. As he walked toward the door, the apartment changed and vanished. The clean, updated grandeur was gone, replaced with garage-sale furniture and half-broken appliances. A few cobwebs grew in the corner. His ghostly pet turned red and looked something like a parrot. He opened the door.

Jerrod stood in the doorway, his shoulder leaning against the door jam, a look for fury on his face. "You can't just leave me out of this," he demanded.

"Yes, I can. This is personal."

Jerrod arched an eyebrow. "A two _hundred_-year-old letter is personal?" His scowl grew. "I'm coming in."

"No, you're not."

"I'm older and more experienced than you."

Danny rolled his eyes at that comment, but took a step to the side. "What ever you say," Danny said softly. Sure, the young man was in his thirties, but Danny was in his two-hundreds. Not that anyone knew that. That didn't need to be said.

The kid brushed past him and looked around the apartment. "Nice place."

Danny hummed and closed the door, stalking back over towards the coffee table. He hated company. He'd chased ghosts out of his home for a hundred years and more, now he was inviting a human in. Company and human beings were all well-and-good in the human world, but not here. This was _his_ place.

He dropped onto the couch and turned back to the letter, determined not to let the intrusion break his task. Sam always used to write him hidden messages, and she used to have a way of showing how she hid it. If only he could remember…

"These your parents?"

Danny glanced up, looking where Jerrod was standing. His eyes narrowed a little, then he said, "Yup."

"Is this your sister?"

Danny froze, closing his eyes. Around them, the apartment changed. Pictures vanished from walls and shelves. "Yeah," he said softly. Blood splattered behind his eyelids.

"You okay?"

Eyes flickering open, Danny gave Jerrod a level look and wiped any emotion from his face. "I'm fine," Danny said levelly. "We playing twenty questions?"

The young man arched an eyebrow in confusion and settled onto the couch next to Danny, moving a pillow out of his way and leaning forwards over the coffee table. His cow-dumb eyes flickered over the letter. "So what's up with this letter?"

Danny sighed and set his elbow on his knee, his chin on his fist. "I think it's got a secret message."

"Like, a holo-message?"

Danny shook his head. "No. Like invisible ink or something. We-" he cut off, his teeth clicking together sharply. He wasn't quite used to having to keep secrets again. "Like… lemon juice."

Jerrod narrowed his eyes, staring closely at the letter. "I don't get it," he said slowly. "Why would someone send a ghost a letter with invisible ink?"

"You-" Danny stopped, his eyes widening. "You wouldn't." He looked down at the letter, staring at the letter. "You wouldn't, would you?" His forehead wrinkled. "You want something to drink?"

"What?" Jerrod's voice was startled.

"Thirsty?" Danny looked up at the young man, waiting patiently, seemingly unconcerned about the sudden twist in the conversation.

Jerrod nodded after a moment. Danny nodded as well and stood up, scooping the letter along with him. "Be back," he said, heading towards the kitchen. "Stay." Behind him came the soft sound of grumbling.

Danny's real apartment had a sort of open concept, where you could see everything from the kitchen. This strange new arrangement had a kitchen door. The door swung open with a squeal, the thunked shut loudly behind him. He stopped and studied the mess of a kitchen his apartment and turned into and wrinkled his nose. The odor and semi-rotting food vanished.

Glancing once back at the door, Danny held up the paper and squinted at it, carefully holding the paper by his fingertips. He stared at the writing, almost longingly, almost in fear of never seeing it again, before biting his lip. Energy flared around his fingertips, soft and gentle, and began to spread across the page.

The results were instantaneous. Swirling letters of brilliant green appeared on the page, neatly obscuring the physical writing.

_Danny, I hope I can get this to you someday. I'd mail it, but I don't know where you are…_

_You have to know that what happened wasn't your fault. It was an accident. Nobody holds you responsible… except for yourself, of course. I'm sure you're beating yourself up over what happened._

_Your parents want you to come home so badly. We told them, you know, after the accident. They kind of already knew, but we filled in the blanks. I think we really hurt them when we told them everything. There were lots of tears… But they know it wasn't your fault. _

_The funeral was really nice. I thought you were there for awhile. Tucker had to keep squeezing my hand to keep me from looking around. Everyone got up and had such nice stories to tell. I know she would have liked how it ended up. Very polished and inside the lines. Even Vlad was nice. I think he misses you, in his own twisted way._

_Danny… I never really told you how much you meant, you know. Not just to the town and to your family and things, but to me. I know it's been over a year since you disappeared, but I still miss you. I wake up at night thinking you're sitting next to me. It's hard to think without you here._

_Please come home, Danny. I don't care what you've done or where you've gone or how long it took you to read this… please come home._

_I love you._

_-Sam_

The vines around his neck tightened and Danny closed his eyes, letting the energy die and his hands drop to his sides. The paper fluttered to the floor. Slowly, Danny followed, sinking to the ground and pulling his knees up to his chest.

It was absolutely pathetic for someone who was as old and experienced as he to be sitting on the floor like a child. But there he was, wishing his mother was still around to comfort him. Unfortunately, she was a hundred and forty years dead. He'd been to her funeral.

"Danny?"

The sound of the door slowly opening behind him caused Danny to glance down at the letter, but it was simply back to normal. He reached down and picked up the letter, brushing at the wetness on his cheeks. "What?"

"You okay?"

Danny got to his feet. "Yes." The letter went into his pocket. Danny watched his hand move it there, unable to tear his eyes away.

Jerrod was standing near the door, looking uncertain and shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Does it help?"

"With what?" Danny felt a bit lost, his mind blown up like a balloon and floating feet over his head.

"The case?"

Danny looked over at him. The young man's cow-like brown eyes were gazing at him in concern. Danny suddenly wondered if his eyes were red. His hand went back into his pocket, carefully feeling the creases in the letter. The vine around his neck tightened painfully. "No." The word came out choked and painful. Straitening his shoulders, he brushed past Jerrod's shoulder, back into the living room.

Jerrod followed. "You want me to go?"

The papers of the case were scattered on the floor, more than one of them being marked with a careless footprint. Danny slowly knelt down and started to pick them up, ignoring his friend, organizing them back into their piles on the table. Pictures flashed in front of his eyes like a slideshow. He barely paid them any attention.

A Phantom. A ghost. Certainly not the right one, not him. But one none-the-less.

He didn't really care much. There was too much else to think about, too many thoughts racing in his head. The letter from Sam…

Only how did it…

And what was the name of the girl that was murdered?

"Yes." Danny looked up at Jerrod. "I want you to go. But I'm coming with you."

.

.

It was the forth time Danny had stepped onto the scene of the crime. The first was when he'd been called in for his 'expertise' in the strange – although how he'd ended up in the police rola-dex for 'help with strange murders' he had no clue. The second time when he'd brought Jerrod through. A third when he'd snuck on the premises to see if he could find the slightest hint of a ghost that had been there.

Now this time. The forth time.

Danny's hand was in his pocket, slowly fingering the letter as he hunched his shoulders against the cold. The blizzard had let up, but the snow was still coming down in small, soft flakes. And it was cold. Very cold.

"You were right, you know," Danny said as he shut the door to Jerrod's car and started towards the house. He ducked under the 'do not cross' tape and pushed open the door, ignoring the fact that it had just been locked. "It's a good clue."

Jerrod ducked in after him, looking around uncertainly as Danny flicked on a light. "I've got no idea what you're talking about."

"Shush," Danny muttered. "This is the best part of those murder-mystery TV shows. I get to talk and you get to shut up while I tell you what happened." He glanced back at his companion, who was edging around the bloody stain on the carpet.

Danny walked up to the edge and touched the stuffed bear a little girl had been clutching. "Her name was Jasmine, you know." He picked it up carefully, touching its cold nose, his fingers moving to its ear. A shiny spider earring was tucked inside. The world went blurry and he had to blink a few times to clear it. "She loved this bear more than anything. She named it Bearbert Einstein, and she brought it everywhere with her, despite how much her brothers teased her."

"How do you know what she called the bear?" Jerrod asked quietly. "That wasn't in the files."

Danny smiled sadly, removing the earring and setting the bear back down. "The name of the bear doesn't matter, I guess. It's the point. A sister named Jasmine with a teddy bear, murdered by Danny Phantom." He pulled out the letter and the picture of the murder scene, holding out the picture for Jerrod to take. "See anything?"

Silence passed for a few moments. "Nothing I haven't seen before. What do _you_ see?"

"An earring." Danny touched his ear unconsciously. "Phantom never had earrings. Sam tried to get him to get one, but she always failed."

"Is that a spider?"

Danny looked up at Jerrod's tone, nodding. "Sam wore spider earrings." Closing his eyes, Danny reached out with his senses to the house. Not for the first time, he got nothing back. So he got to his feet, turned around, and headed out of the house. Just thinking about what had happened in this room was making his stomach churn. "Murder's over. Mystery solved."

"What?" There was the sound of feet moving quickly behind him. "How does that solve anything?"

The letter carefully came out of the pocket, but his feet never slowed on his way towards the door. "Sam never sent this. See? The envelope never got stamped. The stamp's still useable. So how'd it get here?"

"Who knows? It's been two hundred years. Maybe she used to live here. Maybe this family had it as some sort of heirloom. There's a million reasons." Jerrod grabbed Danny's shoulder, jerking him to a stop.

"Oh, come on. What's the chances of a two-hundred year gone ghost showing up as the same time this letter did? The ghost brought it." Danny shrugged off the hand, flipping off the light switch and leaving the two of them in darkness. His eyes glowed slightly, but he didn't care. Not right now. "And the ghost had to leave a message so the right person would come get it. Mail delivery for the dead."

Jerrod was slowly coming into focus in the dim glow of the streetlight outside. "Murdering five people?" he said dubiously. "That's…"

"Murdering one person," Danny corrected. "Just the little girl. The others were probably just in the way, collateral damage. A girl named Jasmine."

The two friends blinked at each other for a long moment before Jerrod shook his head. "I don't get it."

"You don't have to. I do," Danny said softly. Then he turned and made his way out into the snow. "I'll find my own ride home. See you later, Jerrod."

As soon as he was out of sight, Danny disappeared.

.

.

It wasn't snowing in Amity Park. The stars were glowing overhead, the moon a sliver of light. A beautiful layer of new snow blanketed the ground.

There weren't any footprints leading up the grave Danny was standing in front of, studying the name on the tombstone. He'd never actually been here before. "Got your letter," he said. His voice seemed dead in the empty night. "Little overkill, wasn't it?"

There wasn't an answer, but Danny didn't need one. "I know, I know," he muttered. "It's been two hundred years. You got desperate. But you didn't need to kill that little girl just to get my attention. I have enough blood on my hands."

"And yes, it was my fault. She died because of me. It wasn't an accident." Danny smiled, but it was an off, fake smile. "Now I have two Jasmines that died because of me."

Danny pushed his hands through his white hair. "What did you want me to do, huh Sam? I couldn't go back. Not after Jazz died. The ghost zone was…" his voice trailed off. "There's nothing in the ghost zone. No guilt, no worries, no time… I could just forget. I liked it."

He dropped his hands down, putting them back into his pockets, gazing down at the impressions of his shoes in the snow. "Still my fault, though. Two hundred years of hiding didn't change that. A letter from you doesn't change that."

His fingers grazed against the small spider earring. The ghost had been wearing it. Then it ended up in the teddy bear. Now it was his.

"I made a promise not to stay in the ghost zone anymore. To spend time in the human world. To allow time to age me…" He sighed. "Is that what you want? Or did you do this to make me go back to the ghosts?" His hand clenched around the earring, the tiny metal legs digging into his palms. "Is that why you did this?"

There wasn't an answer. Just silence.

Danny sighed and let his shoulders slump. "Two wrongs don't make a right, Sam. You used to know that." The earring came out of the pocket, glittering between his fingertips in the moonlight. "I'm keeping this. But I'll come back." He waggled his hand at the tombstone. "No killing people. If you want to talk to me, just say something. I know ghosts don't get the whole death thing, but humans take it personally."

"I loved you too." Danny smiled, his eyes damp. "And you got what you wanted. I came home. Now you can rest."

Danny turned around to leave, but he paused and looked over his shoulder, his eyes narrowing as he glared at the silent tombstone. "By the way, I just picked up on the 'mysteriously lost descendent shows up in my office and becomes my friend' thing. I don't believe in coincidences and you know it. Stop messing with my life."

The gravestone didn't reply, but the moon chose that moment to sparkle off the words inscribed on the front: Forgiveness is the start of life.

Danny might have read them. Then he was gone.

The next morning he had a small spider earring in his ear, a new pair of combat boots on his feet, and met Jerrod Manson for a cup of coffee to discuss the newest case. A teenager needed to be located and dragged back home, no doubt kicking, screaming, and half-drugged with something illegal.

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><p><strong>Please go vote! www. ficmasinjuly. org submissions. htm (remove spaces)**


	3. Dec: The Ring

**Rated 'Teen' for maturish concepts**

**PLEASE vote for me! I'd really like to win one of the months. Take a second to click on the bright red 'VOTE' at the bottom of this page: http: / / www. ficmasinjuly. org/ deccorther. htm  
><strong>

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><p><strong>The Ring<strong>  
><em>A Danny Phantom FanFic by Cori<em>

* * *

><p>It was a small box, barely large enough to hold a stack of postcards. Wrapped in simple brown paper with a white address label stuck to the front, it was nothing much to look at. It was picked up with the rest of the mail and set on the table near the front door, completely ignored.<p>

It wasn't more than a few minutes before Samantha Manson came humming her way down the steps, eyes mostly closed, lost to a world of music. She bumped into the small front table with her hip a few times – bump, bump-bump, bump – pulled a ballerina-like pirouette (not that she'd admit it), and grabbed the mail. She thumbed through the small stack of junk mail, still half-singing rock lyrics under her breath.

The small box caught at her fingers, the tiny tingling feeling in her fingertips grabbing her attention and making her pause, words dying in her throat. She studied the address label on the box. A small smile appeared on her face when she saw it was addressed to her.

Dropping the rest of the mail back on the table, she mimed a quick drum solo, the music of her earphones momentarily loud enough to be heard across the room, then wandered her way back up the stairs to her room. The small, brown box was held securely in her hand.

She collapsed onto her bed, lying on her back, and held the box over her chest as she hummed. Her black-painted fingernails slipped easily under the tape. It took only seconds for the box to be free of its packaging. A well-used box was under the brown paper, its top held on with a skimpy piece of tape. She pulled off the cover and peered inside the box.

"Well, well," she whispered, sitting up in surprise. She pilled the headphones out of her ears, letting them fall to the bed. Her small hand reached into the box and pulled out… another box. This was of beautifully-crafted wood, cubic, and silky smooth to the touch. It was a ring box. "Who…?"

She grabbed the remains of the brown wrapping, examining the address label. "No return address," she muttered, wrinkling her forehead as she glanced into the box again to check for a letter. Nothing. "Weird."

Slowly, almost reverently, she ran her fingers over the wooden box. Her legs criss-crossed under her, shifted her weight, and cracked open the small box.

Inside was a ring. It was a simple, silverish ring, slightly tarnished by age and cross-crossed with small dents and dings. It was obviously well-worn and old. The light from the windows shone against the soft, smooth sides of the ring and cast rainbows on the wall.

Sam tipped her head to the side, a bit confused. She snapped the box closed again, turning it over in her hand and looking for some sort of sign as to where it'd come from. The box was blank. "Huh." She looked one last time in the box.

She opened the box again, this time removing the ring from its black velvet seat. She studied it closer, then looked inside the box. "Why in the world did someone give me this?" After a moment of staring at the ring, she shrugged and pushed the ring onto her finger. It was way too big. She laughed a little, switching it to her thumb. It was still too big.

"Well, that's that," she said, shaking her head. The ring went back into the wooden box, the box went back into the mailing box, and the whole works went onto the table next to her bed. She grabbed her headphones again, sticking them into her ears just in time to drown out her mother yelling her name.

* * *

><p>Two days later, Sam slumped into her room with a backpack slug over her shoulder and an annoyed look on her face. She was followed by two teenage males and the screaming of her mother – something about improper behavior for a young woman. The door slammed shut behind them with a bang loud enough to shake the house. None of the three teenagers would admit to having done it.<p>

"There's only one person I did _not_ want to see today," Sam mumbled as she dropped onto her bed and threw her backpack into a corner. "And there he was."

"There he definitely was," Danny repeated dully. There was a vaguely glazed look to his eyes. "I will never be able to unsee that." He sank onto the bed next to his best friend and let out a shaky breath.

Sam grabbed her pillow and pulled it over her face.

"You're not allowed to smother yourself without giving me half the pillow," Danny said. He snatched the pillow away from her.

Tucker settled into a convenient chair and shrugged his shoulders. "It wasn't all _that_ bad," he said. "Too bad I didn't get it on video, though."

Two sets of eyes – one blue, one amethyst – gazed at him in disbelief. "I don't know you," Sam whispered. "I refuse to have ever known you."

"It's a natural thing," Tucker argued back leaning back in the chair, "and not something to be ashamed of. You know, lots of people consider them to be-"

"I don't want to talk about it," Danny interrupted fervently. "I accept that half the population has one, but that doesn't mean I want to see them. And not… _his_." He shuddered.

"It was staring at me," Sam whispered, stealing the pillow back and jamming it back over her eyes. "Kill me now." Her voice was muffled.

This time it was Tucker that stole the pillow from over her face. A vaguely evil grin was on his face. "Not until you help me with this homework. You promised." He kept the pillow, shifting around until he was sitting on it.

"I sleep on that," Sam protested, pushing him off the chair and grabbing her pillow back. "Ew." She held it out at arms length, clearly torn between holding it close to protect it and throwing it across the room in disgust. "Now I'm going to have to disinfect it. That, and my eyes." Making her decision, she tossed the pillow over into a corner, knocking over a small box in the process. The box tumbled to the ground, a wooden box trapped inside tumbling out onto the floor.

Sam rolled over on the bed and reached down to pick the box up. Sitting back up, she rubbed her fingers over the wood and settled comfortably up against the headboard.

"There was definitely something wrong with him," Danny said, shaking his head. "I know he's a fruitloop, but at least he usually remembers to put on clothes in the morning."

"And brush his teeth," Tucker added. "Did you see the stuff that was stuck in there?"

Danny rubbed his temples. "I have to admit I wasn't paying too much attention to his teeth." Shuddering a bit, Danny changed the subject. "What you got?" He crawled across the bed, settling next to Sam.

"Someone sent me a ring." Sam opened the box and showed Danny the silvery ring.

"Heh, neat." Danny took the box from her fingers and picked the ring out. The silver shimmered in the sunlight. "Who?"

Sam shrugged her shoulders. "Don't know, actually. There was no note or return address."

"No inscription either," Danny muttered, studying it. "Just an old, blank, silver ring."

"No, it's not," Tucker said, jumping onto the bed and grabbing the ring from Danny's hand. "It's the One Ring." He chuckled, slipping the overly-large ring onto his finger and holding his fist up like trophy, legs spread for balance. "One ring to rule them all…" He turned expectantly to his best friend.

Danny stared at him. "I'm not nerdy enough to complete that sentence."

"You'd leave me hanging?" Tucker's mouth dropped open, his hands falling to his side. "Sam?" he whined.

"You sat on my pillow." She crossed her arms and looked away. "And don't stand like that, I'm having uncomfortable flashbacks to fifteen minutes ago."

Tucker dropped to the bed, crossing his legs and sighing, taking the ring off. "It's way too big. Have you thought that maybe it's not meant to be a ring at all?"

"Well, what else would it be?" Danny asked, taking the ring back to study it. It seemed to glow a little brighter when it was in his hand. "Sure looks like a ring to me."

"Maybe it's some kind of… dwarf bracelet?" Tucker laughed a little. "Or a collar for a pet snake. Or it belonged to someone with _really_ thick fingers."

Sam glared at him. "Can you be serious for a few minutes today or are you trapped in 'stupid' mode?"

"Trapped," the two boys said in unison, then glanced at each other and tripped over spitting out, "Jynx! You owe me a nasty burger!"

"I'm surrounded by idiots," Sam whispered, shaking her head and closing her eyes. Then she flinched. "God, I can't even close my eyes without seeing… _it_."

"Must we keep bringing that up?" Danny whimpered. "_Please_ can we let it drop?" He rolled the ring around in his palm. "You know, this doesn't look that huge."

"So try it on." Sam tossed the wooden box into the air a few times.

Tucker stared at her. He sputtered, "Do you remember what happened the last time he took your advice to 'try' something we don't know what it is or where it comes from?"

Sam blinked at Tucker, then shook her head. "It's just some creepy ring. Probably one of my relatives sent it over after my grand-aunt died. An heirloom or something, and just forgot to stick the note in. How is it you can see doom in everything?"

"It's easy," Tucker muttered. "Don't you remember the hat? And the dancing shoes? I remember those perfectly."

"Only because you were tap-dancing for a week before we got you out of them," Danny snuck in.

Tucker glared at him. "_AND_ the gloves that tried to choke people? How about the sunglasses that made everyone look like monsters?"

"Those were neat, not dangerous" Sam said with a smile. "Do you remember what Paulina looked like?"

"I liked the tails…" Danny trailed off and blushed when the other two sent him an odd look. "But anyways," he held up his hand. "See? Not so big. It fits my finger just fine." He'd slipped the ring onto the middle finger of his right hand while Tucker'd been talking. "And the world hasn't ended."

Tucker rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath. "Whatever."

Danny's cell phone rang. He grabbed it, eyeing the screen before letting out a sigh and answering the call. "Hey."

"Parents," Tucker whispered.

"Sister," Sam shot back.

"Yeah, I'm almost home," Danny muttered. "Why?"

"Twenty bucks." Tucker dug out his wallet and held out the bet.

Sam eyed it, nodded, and whispered, "You're on."

Danny, on the phone, froze and the blood seemed to drain from his face. "What?" he whispered. Then, after a moment, he moaned out a, "No. Please, no."

The two friends, glancing at each other guiltily, quietly handed the money back to where it'd come from. "You think someone got hurt?" Tucker murmured.

"No." Danny's voice was a bit stronger. "No. I refuse." He waited a beat, closing his eyes. "Mom, _please_. You know how much I hate him." Danny's voice had taken on a bit of a whine. "I don't care how busy you are, I-" He broke off.

"Vlad?" Sam arched a curious eyebrow.

Tucker reached over and snagged the money from Sam's hand. "Nobody hurt, bet's back on. I win."

Danny grabbed the money from Tucker's hand and turned it intangible, watching out of the corner of his eye as Tucker futilely tried to grab it. "Fine," he finally said darkly. "I'll be home… soonish." Then he rolled his eyes. "Yes. Five minutes. Bye."

"I won that," Tucker complained. "Hand it back!"

"I told you two to stop betting on who's calling," Danny snapped. "I have to go. My parents picked up the fruitloop and are watching him until he's feeling 'more like himself'. Only, they just realized that they have some exceptionally important but indescribable 'thing' to work on, so they need me to watch him."

Sam snickered. "Meaning: they're already sick of him."

"Exactly," Danny groaned, dropping back against the pillows. "They couldn't have had him for more than five or ten minutes. I hate my life."

"I have a pillow if you want me to smother you," Sam offered helpfully.

Danny looked at her for a moment, a pensive look on his face, but then shook his head. "I saw where that pillow was. I think I'll take my chances with Vlad."

Tucker shook his head, still eyeing the money in Danny's hand. "Too bad your parents got to him before the cops did. I'm sure they'd've kept him for a psych eval or something."

Closing his eyes, Danny let out a long breath. "Yeah, well that's what I get for having a ghost-free day today. I should've known something like this was coming."

"A crazy, naked Vlad Masters performing the chicken dance?" Sam arched an eyebrow, unlacing her boots to take them off.

"Yup." Danny sat up and ran his hand through his hair. Then, in a flash of light, vanished and was replaced by a phantom. "I guess I should go."

"Take lots of pictures!" Tucker said, grabbing the forgotten money from Danny's hand. At the odd look the other two sent him, he narrowed his eyes and clarified, "For _blackmail_. Get your heads out of the gutters, would you?"

Sam tossed one of her boots at Tucker's head. "Us? _OUR_ heads are in the gutters?"

Phantom laughed and vanished through the ceiling. It wasn't until he was halfway home that he realized he was still wearing Sam's ring. When he dropped through the ceiling into his room, bouncing to a stop on his bed in a second flash of light, he pulled against the ring. "Damn it!" he hissed when it pulled against his skin. He held his hand up to the light, studying it. "It's too tight, now."

"Danny? That you?" his father's voice boomed up the stairs.

"Yeah!" he yelled back.

"Get down here!"

Danny tugged one last time against the ring, then shook his head and decided to just leave it for now. Sam would know how to get it off. He pushed himself out of bed and slumped out of his room, making sure to walk as slowly as he figured he could get away with.

Behind him, the door swung most of the way closed just as a strange, silvery figure appeared on Danny's bed. The boy had silvery eyes, a style of clothes that was at least a millennium out of date, and seemed to be about twelve. His lips were pursed, his eyes narrowed, a furious look on his face.

"That," he hissed in a voice nobody could hear, "is _not_ Samantha Manson." He crossed his arms and glared towards the door Danny had vanished through. "I don't care how much more 'interesting' this is going to be," he complained to the air. "No, I don't. We agreed on Samantha!"

Then he groaned and slumped, every muscle in his body relaxing in defeat. "I don't even _like_ half-breeds," he muttered. His head tipped backwards and he flopped onto his back. "Fine. But I get to chose next time and I'm going to pick the person with the slimiest, more unwashed, grossest hands ever."

* * *

><p>Danny was curled up in the corner of the couch, staring desperately at the television. It was some afternoon talk show populated by idiots, morons, and the occasional crazy person, but Danny really didn't care to change the channel. Vlad had the remote. And changing the channel meant…<p>

"Dude," Vlad snickered, pointing to one of the men on the screen that was shouting obscenities at some slutty-looking woman, "he's totally out of control man. Someone should show him how to be groovy."

Rubbing his temples, Danny glanced out of the corner of his eye at Vlad. The man was at least dressed – more or less. He was swimming in a pair of his father's jeans, the shirt he'd been given removed and turned into something like a turban. Currently sprawled at the other end of the couch, his monkey-like bare feet on the coffee table, Vlad was seemingly having the time of his life.

Closing his eyes for a moment, Danny let out a slow breath and glanced at his watch. It'd been twenty-two minutes. It felt like twenty-two hours.

"I don't get it," came the voice of his mother, sounding like it was coming from the stairs. "The compound shouldn't be affecting him like this. It's an enkephalin, but it shouldn't produce this intense of euphoria."

Danny, apparently sensing the end of his twenty-two-minute torment, perked up slightly, daring to look in Vlad's direction for any sign of his parents. Then he registered what they were saying. "How do you know what's in him?" Danny called.

His father poked his head through the doorway. "We baked it into brownies." The large man smiled like he'd just won a prize. "Vlad ate too many."

Jack Fenton vanished back into the kitchen as Danny stared, his mouth slowly dropping open in surprise. "You _drugged_ Vlad?"

The words didn't quite have the affect they should have. His mother stuck her head into the living room to give him a glare, perhaps annoyed at the pure delight in Danny's voice. "He only at _two_. That shouldn't have done anything more than give him a happy feeling for the rest of the day. Jack ate four of them and he's not nearly as affected – even once you control for the differences in mass."

Despite the glare at the lecture-like tone, Danny couldn't _quite_ wipe the grin from his face. "I bed you 'enhanced' the whatever with ectoplasm" Danny used the air quotes, even though neither of his parents were in the living room the see them.

Both heads appeared in the doorway this time. "How did you know that?"

Some months earlier, Danny would have turned red and stumbled through a badly-thought-through explanation that didn't exactly make sense. Today, he just shrugged and asked, "Have you ever _not_ enhanced your stuff with ectoplasm?"

Maddie frowned at that, but Jack just smiled. "That's my boy!" he said happily, pulling Maddie into a hug. "Isn't he so smart?"

"Jack," Maddie said, extricating herself, "perhaps you should lay of the brownies for awhile. At least until we find a way to counteract the effects." He pouted, but Maddie remained firm and Jack finally nodded dejectedly. "Are you okay out here, Sweetie?" she asked.

Danny glance at Vlad, who was so busy cheering for the drunk man on the TV show he hadn't even noticed the conversation. "I don't have to touch him or go within five feet of him?" When she nodded, Danny sighed and said, "I suppose. But you owe me."

Vlad whooped loudly and jumped to his feet when the man punched the moderator on the TV show, the overly-large pants he was wearing slipping down to reveal his non-underwear-wearing lower half. Danny buried his head in his hands as his mother called for her husband to help her get Vlad decent again. "You owe me big," he muttered into his hands. "Therapy might need to be included."

It didn't take long for his father to convince Vlad that pants were a good thing for sitting on couches and to pull them back up. "There you go," Maddie said, patting at Vlad's head and turning the channel to something a bit less exciting. "Why don't you watch this for awhile. Jack and I are going to be working in the kitchen, okay?"

Danny risked looking up, nodding abjectly. He squirmed a few millimeters closer to his edge of the couch.

"Sweetness," Vlad cooed, eyeing the meerkats now occupying the TV screen. "Aren't they so cute?"

"Cute," Danny whispered. His mother worked her way back into the kitchen, sending him one last worried glance, and the two half-breeds were alone once more. Danny curled his arms around his knees and pulled him tight against his chest. "You know, Plasmius, I didn't think you could get any stranger,"

The man turned towards him, looking Danny straight in the eye for the first time in awhile. "Plasmius?" He cocked his head to the side, the shirt-turned-turban sliding off his head and onto the couch. Then his eyes widened and flared a brilliant green. "Oh yeah!" He bounded to his feet in a flash of white light.

Danny had stopped breathing when _Vlad's_ eyes turned green. He'd gone a bit pale at the _white_ light and had gotten into a crouch on the couch. But he hesitated, tipping his head to the side, when the light dissipated. The creature Danny had learned to despise was… off.

The cape was gone, for one thing, along with the fangs and the monster-like hair. Vlad was wearing what looked like a lab coat, his hair still back in a ponytail, and he had an almost manic grin on his face. "Dude, you're like me, you know that? Let's go explore!"

Vlad – or at least it used to be Vlad Masters – vanished through the ceiling and off into the town. Danny hadn't moved, still staring wide-eyed at the place where Vlad had been standing. Eventually, though, he had to breathe.

"Danny? What was that?" his mother called. "You need help?"

"Um…" Danny sank back onto the couch, glancing from the floor to the ceiling. Then he shouted, "No! We're good!" Although whether he chose that because he wanted Vlad off his back for a few hours or if he didn't want his parents to know about half-breed ghosts was a different story.

He wrinkled his nose and tapped his fingers on the edge of the couch. He stared at the TV for a solid minute before he let out a dark snort and got to his feet. "Fine," he muttered. "You win this time, conscience. But you won't be so lucky next time."

One last glance towards the kitchen to ensure his parents weren't watching was all it took before Danny was enveloped in a burst of white. When it cleared, Danny was gone, replaced by the infamous Amity Park Phantom. He rolled his shoulders, twisted his back, and stretched his legs – clearly wasting time. Then, apparently unable to come up with any other ways to procrastinate, he turned towards the door to follow Vlad into the town.

Only he came up short. Because standing only inches behind him (now in front of him) was a youngish looking boy with strange silver eyes and glistening silver hair. Danny drew up short, his eyes widening, panic stabbing directly into his heart.

"_You_ are not Samantha Manson," the boy said furiously, folding his arms over his chest and glaring at him.

"Um…" Phantom didn't know what to say. He backpedaled, swallowing heavily when he noticed the lack of ghostly glow. "I'm… not. You…?"

His lips pursed tightly. "I was sent to Samantha Manson. That _stupid_ ring chose you instead." The boy looked down at Phantom's hand and said, "Yes, you're stupid. And no, I'm not because I'm not talking to you. Yeah, that's right, _ever again_." The kid's voice had risen to a shout at the end.

Phantom glanced around nervously. "Hey, we should keep it down-"

"Why?" the boy interrupted. Those eerie silver eyes looked straight into Danny's. "Nobody can hear me if I don't want them to. Except you, of course."

"Of course," Phantom parroted, confused. "And you are?"

The kid didn't answer, instead taking the time to look around the living room. "You know, I don't really mind this place," he said softly. "It's… homey. I guess this'll work." The boy sauntered over to the couch and dropped onto it, sprawling out and setting his feet on the coffee table. He sent a quick glance at Danny from under his silvery bangs. "Yeah. This'll do."

"No, it won't." Phantom moved in a quick-step, seeming to disappear from one place and reappear crouched in the coffee table, staring at the kid. The kid flinched, instantly drawing himself up into a ball. "You need to tell me who you are and what you want, or you're going to find out why I'm Public Enemy Number One in _two_ different worlds."

It clearly took an effort for the kid to unwind himself and get his feet back on the floor. His shoulders were rounded, his head looking towards the floor. The overly-melodramatic anger and bravado vanishing like a popped balloon. "My name's Olog," he said softly. Those silver eyes peeked up at Phantom. "I'm your slave."

Silence fell in the living room, broken only by the sounds of the meerkats on the TV and the clinks and soft conversation of his parents in the other room. "Say what?" Phantom whispered.

"The ring you put on," the kid, Olog, murmured. "It's a soul-ring. Mine is attached to it, and while you wear it you're my master – you own my soul. I have to do anything you tell me to."

"Oh, Hell no," Phantom hissed. He was set afire in a blaze of white light, leaving his human form behind. He glanced once at Olog, but the boy didn't seem to be fazed. His fingers wound around the ring, tugging at it furiously. "I want this off."

"A bit too late for that."

Danny looked up, a frown on his face and fury in his eyes. The kid had gotten to his feet and was standing on the other side of the couch, safely out of reach. "Why?" Danny ground out.

"The ring chooses who wears it. It chose you and it won't come off. Not until you're dead, anyways."

There was a long, slow breath that Danny breathed in and then back out. He opened his mouth to say something, obviously thought different of it, and closed his mouth again. Then he pointed his finger at the kid and repeated, "Hell no."

"Danny?" His mother's voice came from behind him. Danny jerked around, tipping off the coffee table and sprawling on the floor. "Who are you talking to?"

Getting back to his feet, Danny glanced at the boy, who was still standing calmly in the room not five feet from where his mother was standing. "Nobody," he muttered.

"Oh." She looked around. "Where's Vlad?"

Danny's eyes involuntarily turned up towards the ceiling. "He… went upstairs for a second. I was just about to follow him."

She hummed. "Don't let him get into anything, okay Sweetie? He's…" she trailed off.

"Doped?" Danny finished. "Drugged? High? Flying?" He choked a bit as the last word came out.

His mother nodded. "Something like that, yes. We think the ectoplasmic modifications we made to a enkephalin-based compound is reacting badly with a retrovirus we found in his blood. It might-"

"Awesome," Danny interrupted. "I'm just going to…" he trailed off, backing towards the stairs headed towards the second floor. "Yup!" He was upstairs before his mother could get another word out. He rushed into his room and closed the door behind him.

The boy was sitting on the bed, gazing calmly in his direction.

"My mom couldn't see you," Danny whispered.

"Nobody sees me if I don't want them to. Except you, of course."

Danny sank to the floor, his back against the door. "So you're some sort of ghost?"

The boy shrugged. "Maybe, if you're a narrow-minded individual that defines a ghost as anything that is no longer living. But I'm no more a ghost than you are."

Danny pressed his hands into his temples, rubbing them in circles, then letting one of his hands fall back to the nape of his neck. He was slowly shaking his head back and forth.

"Danny? Vlad?" his mother called, her footsteps creaking softly on the steps.

"Listen," Danny said softly, rolling to his feet, "I need to go find Vlad and get him back here." He hesitated, shook his head suddenly as if to clear an image from his mind, and continued. "I can't deal with both him _and_ you at the same time. So… just…"

"Danny?" came the call again.

Danny glanced over his shoulder, biting his lip, then swore softly. He vanished in a flash of white light. "I'll be back, okay? Then we can… something." As the floor outside his room creaked, Phantom disappeared through the roof and out into Amity Park proper.

Maddie stuck her head into Danny's room, looking around for a second at the empty space, then turned and headed farther down the hallway. "Danny?" she called.

* * *

><p>It was, strangely or otherwise, Tucker that first found Plasmius in the roller rink. "That's a ten-four, Clueless-One," Tucker said into his watch – not that he needed to. The watch had no microphone in it. "The subject is definitely wearing clothing this time. You're safe to engage. Did you get those blackmail photos I asked for?"<p>

"No." The voice came from behind him rather than through the small earphone tucked behind Tucker's ear. "I was too busy washing my eyes with bleach."

"That's okay," Tucker said, switching from the police-scanner function on his cell phone to the camera. The phone made a quacking sound as it snapped a few pictures, then moved onto a video. "I think I've got enough." He waited until Phantom was crouched next to him. The floor was littered with forgotten shoes and coats, but the rink was empty of all life but the two boys and one mad half-ghost skater. "Got a plan?"

Phantom held out the Thermos as an answer. "He can come out when my parents find a cure."

"Did they really _drug_ him?" Tucker asked gleefully.

"Apparently," Phantom answered with a shrug. "He's overreacting to it, probably because he's half-ghost. The brownies were only supposed to make him feel better."

Tucker snickered. "So… you already have that on your list of things to avoid?"

Phantom glanced at him with a sigh. "I have it on my list to not eat _anything_ my parents cook. Ever again."

As Phantom got to his feet and slipped into the roller rink, Tucker said, "I think you've said that before…"

Phantom turned a glare on Tucker for a moment. "This shouldn't take more than a second or two. Meet you outside?"

Tucker sent him a thumbs up as Phantom headed towards the center of the ring. He watched Plasmius skate for a few minutes. The older half-ghost was still in his strange, new form. Plasmius had someone managed to find (or make) himself a pair of ghostly roller skates and was performing some complex-looking maneuvers on the wooden surface.

"I'm impressed."

Phantom flinched, surprised to see Olog walking quietly next to him. "What are you doing here?" Phantom hissed.

"I'm your slave, remember? I go where you go. Or, more precisely," he added, gazing at the glittering disco ball hanging from the ceiling, then following Plasmius's smooth moves carefully. "I go where your ring goes."

"I'm busy. You'll have to bother me later." Phantom primed the Thermos with his thumb, watching the light inside the high-tech device start to glow.

Olog waited a beat, then asked, "So you want me to leave you alone for a while?"

"Yes," Phantom said darkly. He pointed the Thermos towards Plasmius and pressed the button. The half-ghost reacted badly to the feel of the pull, sending a blast of energy towards the young hero. Phantom jerked, instinctively bringing the Thermos up between him and Plasmius. The blast slammed into the delicate circuitry of the ghost containment device and left little more than a sizzling mess.

"Far out!" Plasmius cheered, raising his arms into a victory sign. "I beat the love light!" He turned around and completed the next lap of the rink backwards.

Phantom glared at his Thermos, swearing softly. He dropped the still-smoking remains onto the ground and crossed his arms, working up a new plan of action. Then he saw something out of the corner of his eye that made him almost forget about Plasmius.

The silver-haired boy had pulled on a pair of roller skates and was slowly taking a step out onto the rink. He wobbled horribly, grabbing onto the sidewall just as his feet slipped out from underneath him. Carefully getting his feet underneath him, Olog managed to maintain his balance long enough to release his grasp on the wall. The second he had rolled far enough away from the wall to not be able to grab it again, he fell.

"Whoa, man," Plasmius said, coming to a stop next to Phantom. "What was with the light there? Bad karma, to ruin a guy's skating."

"You need to come back to my parent's house." Phantom sighed and let his hands fall to his sides. The boy on the other side of the rink had struggled back to his feet and was making his slow way towards the two half-breeds. "They'll help you feel better."

"Better?" Plasmius shook his head. "Bogus, dude. Bogus. The man can't make me feel better. All he can do is get me down. You should try skating, little ghost-man. It frees the soul."

"No thanks." Phantom ran his hand through his hair and settled it onto the back of his neck. "I really wish you were not crazy right now. You know, not evil like usual, but not high as a kite."

Olog chose that moment to grab onto Phantom's arm, yelping a bit as he overturned during an attempted stop. "Sorry," he whispered, letting go as soon as he had his balance back. Shifting his weight a little, the wheels of his roller skates creaking at the motion, he put his hands behind his back and rounded his shoulders. "Do you want me to?"

Phantom glanced at the silvery kid and arched an eyebrow. "To what?"

"Make him not crazy."

Phantom's gaze sharpened. "You can do that?"

"Boss, man!" Plasmius laughed. "You're talkin' to thin air!"

Olog nodded. "I'm your slave. I do whatever you tell me to do."

As Vlad Plasmius chuckled and started to skate away, Phantom stared at the young boy who claimed to a slave to a ring. Phantom pulled the glove off his hand and rubbed at the ring on his finger. For the first time, he felt it humming with power and life. "I don't believe in slaves."

"Doesn't change reality," Olog said softly. "Although if you want, you can call me something else."

Phantom held his breath, closed his eyes, and shook his head. When the air rushed out of his lungs, it do so with a groan. "We need to figure this out, kid. But for now, I need a sane Vlad Masters."

Olog ducked his head and looked at him through silvery bangs. "Is that an order, Master?"

"I don't give orders to _slaves_," Phantom muttered furiously.

"I can't follow them if you don't give them," Olog said apologetically. He shifted a few feet further away. "I can't help unless…"

There was a few seconds of pure silence, broken only by the grinding of Phantom's teeth and the humming of Plasmius as he created his own theme song. Finally, "Fine. Fix him," forced its way out of Phantom's mouth.

Olog glowed. Power collected around him, raced around his body so fast it made his clothes and hair whip around, and blew through his outstretched arms. Silvery starlight swirled through the empty rink and slammed into Plasmius. The half-human collapsed to the ground in a senseless pile.

Then, suddenly, Olog lost his balance and yelped in surprise as his feet went out from underneath him. The glow vanished as the boy tumbled to the ground, landing hard on his butt. "Ow…" he wined.

"Are you okay?" Phantom instinctively reached down the grab Olog's hand and help him back to his feet, but he stopped with Olog flinched away from him. He waited a beat. "Did you do it?"

"Yes, Master," Olog whispered from his position frozen in a flinch.

Phantom gazed down at the white-faced kid, then straightened and walked over towards Plasmius. "Vlad?" he asked, circling around the man from a safe distance. There hadn't been any change in Vlad's appearance – he still looked like a scientist instead of a vampire. "Vlad?"

The unconscious man didn't do so much as twitch. Phantom finally stored up enough courage to walk forwards and poke the half-ghost with a toe. When nothing happened, Phantom knelt down and rolled Plasmius onto his back.

"I've got to get him to my parents' house," Phantom said with a sigh. He collected the larger man into his arms and stood up, using more than a little ghost energy to pull it off. "Will you be okay, Olog?"

The boy had finally untangled his body and was sitting on the floor of the rink, staring at his toes. He nodded.

Phantom took to the air, making sure to stop long enough to grab the toasted Thermos, drop it right in front of Tucker, and listen to his best friend scream in surprise. He chuckled as the techno-geek's ranting flew into the sky, and headed towards home.

Plasmius woke up hours later. Danny knew instantly that there was something wrong with him, mostly being that his eyes were still green and that the first word out of his mouth was, "Danny."

Plasmius never called him Danny and certainly never had green eyes. And even if he _had_ green eyes, they never would have had that concerned glow to them, nor would he have asked if everything was okay with that disturbed tone to his voice.

When they went down to supper, his parents still fretting over having not found a 'cure' to their brownies, they were delighted to find him 'back to normal'. Vlad didn't once hit on Danny's mother. He never sent evil look in Danny's father's direction.

And all the time, the silver-haired, silver-eyed, silver-clothed kid sat in the corner, watching silently. He had his arms around his legs, his chin on his knees, a strange look on his face.

The ring on Danny's finger sent a thrill through his body. Danny shuddered in response, licking a bit of pizza sauce off his lips. He set down his slice of pizza and stared at the silver ring on his finger. It was ancient, scared and dinged, warmed from the heat of his body.

Everything was about to change.

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><p><em>Remember to vote for your favorite in the Ficmas in July contest! http : / www. ficmasinjuly. org/submissions. htm_

_Thanks for all the well-wishes over the past months as I've been struggling. It means a lot, guys. Thanks._

_-Cori_


	4. Jan: Quantum Phantom

**Thanks to you awesome guys, I WON LAST MONTH! W00t!  
><strong>

**Rated 'Teen' for maturish concepts**

**PLEASE vote for me! I'd really like to win again. Take a second to click on the bright red 'VOTE' at the bottom of this page: http : / / www. ficmasinjuly. org/ janquacor. htm  
><strong>

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><p><strong>Quantum Phantom<strong>  
><em>A Danny PhantomQuantum Leap FanFic by Cori_

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><p>Danny woke up to being strapped down to a table. Not that this was a unique situation – it had happened before on any number of occasions. The only thing that made this a bit special was the fact that the table seemed to be in the middle of some very complex contraption.<p>

He looked around, checking out the various dials and knobs and electrical components. Craning his head backwards, he could just make out the computer the entire thing was attached to. Wires ran from the computer to places on his arms and chest.

That was when he realized he was human. He gave a start at that, the tension in his body racking up a few notches. This wasn't someone experimenting on a _ghost_, this was someone experimenting on…

"Well, well, look who's awake."

The voice was instantly recognizable. Danny twisted his head, trying to see the white-haired whack job that came with the voice. "Let me go," he demanded.

"Nope." Vlad appeared through the web of wires and panels, a dark smile on his face. "I need a guinea pig. You fit the bill perfectly." He petted Danny's cheek, his fingers cold and dry, then turned to fiddle with some of the knobs.

Danny yanked against the thick bands holding his hands and feet to the table. They didn't move. He snarled a bit and reached for his ghost powers. Cold, incredible power sparked inside of him and raced through his muscles. He took a deep breath, his eyes half-closing at the awesome feeling.

Then the pain started. Danny couldn't help the scream that was torn from his lungs at the pure agony. It seemed to burn through every bone and muscle in his body. He found himself unable to focus on anything but how much pain he was in.

By the time it faded away into nothingness and Danny, quite a bit of time had passed. Vlad was gone from his sights, the room quiet of everything but his own labored breathing and the strange beeping of the machines. "Ouch," he whispered.

"See this?"

A string suddenly dangled in front of his eyes. Danny focused on it for a second, then looked past it to Vlad's face. "Were you waiting for me to wake up?" Danny muttered, his voice raspy from screaming. "Such a nice sentiment."

The look on Vlad's face turned dark. His hand trembled, the string magnifying the movement. "You insolent, little-"

"Whatever," Danny interrupted. "Just do what you're going to do. I don't want to listen to your stupid rants."

Vlad slammed his fist into the table next to Danny's head. His whole body seemed to be shaking. The hand on the table came up to press around Danny's neck, sharp nails curling into the thin skin.

Danny couldn't help the small spark of fear the curled in his chest as his breath started to become raspy. Perhaps he'd pushed Vlad one comment too far this time. It might have been smarter to get himself free _before_ enraging the old man.

"The only reason," Vlad hissed, "I don't kill you right now is because what I have planned for you is so much better than death. You'll live, knowing that you're making me a _very_ rich and powerful man. I'll make enough money off this to be _President_."

Danny just continued to stare at Vlad, trying not show how much he was struggling to breathe. He gritted his teeth and narrowed his eyes.

The pressure on his throat vanished and Danny shook, trying not to take a huge breath of air now that he could. "You'll never be President," he rasped.

Vlad turned from him and started to stalk away, but then stopped. "No, you deserve to know what's going to happen to you. I'm not going to let you take the enjoy being confused. I want you to _understand_." Vlad punctuated the last word by twisting around and stomping up next to Danny's head. The string came back out.

"Death by string?" Danny taunted, tugging against the cuffs on his wrist.

"This is your life," Vlad said. "This end is the day you were born. This end is today – the end of your life." He held the string between his hands, pulling it taught. "It follows a straight line, see?"

Danny was feeling a decidedly uncomfortable twinge in his stomach. He'd realized that, generally speaking, the more crazy Vlad acted, the worse things turned out. He was waiting for the day that Vlad went completely loco and somehow tried to blow up the planet. This string thing was an 8.5 on the crazy-scale, meaning the damage from this was going to be huge.

"There's this theory," Vlad continued, "about lives. See how the string is straight now?" He crumpled the string up in his hand. "See how now it's not?"

Danny found himself watching the string as the uncomfortable twinge grew into a full-out 'uh-oh, this is gonna be bad'. The inane comment in his head died on his tongue.

"The string wraps around and touches itself. The idea is that you can leap from point to point throughout your life." Vlad smiled. "This machine is going to make you do that."

"Who'd you steal this machine from?" Danny asked. It didn't come out bad-ass like he'd hoped. Instead, it felt a little desperate, especially since he was still yanking against the cuffs holding him to the table.

Vlad snorted and the smile on his face grew into something realistic, which made Danny close his eyes. "That's for me to know and you to _never_ find out."

There were strange clicking sounds and a soft whirr. Danny flicked his eyes open to stare up into the odd collection of electronics over his head. "Vlad-"

"Say 'bye-bye' Little Badger."

"Vlad!" A powerful surge of energy slammed into Danny's body, causing his arms and legs to tense and seize. Blue light crackled through his brain. He felt this horrible sensation of being torn to pieces.

Then it stopped.

Danny opened his eyes very slowly, still feeling his muscles tingling from the energy from Vlad's crazy 'life string looper' machine. He was expecting to see Vlad's annoyed expression – the machine obviously had failed. Vlad was about to be very mad.

Instead, he found himself staring at a wall. It was green and covered in posters of superheroes. He blinked a few times, finally taking in the ringing of an alarm clock. "What the…" He sat up slowly, a thick blanket falling off his body.

Completely confused, Danny just continued to look around the strange bedroom. "Where am I?" he whispered. The glow of the alarm clock caught his eye and he reached for it, fumbling to turn it off.

His bare feet touched the wood floor and he got up, rearranging the waistband of the long pants he was wearing. He stopped again, studying them. The icon of Superman was emblazoned all over them. One eyebrow arched dubiously. "These aren't mine."

He took a few steps forwards, then froze. Slowly, almost reverently, Danny walked up to the mirror that was on the wall, staring at his reflection.

The boy standing in his spot wasn't _him_. The kid was perhaps seven years old, with short brown hair and large brown eyes. One of his eyes was blackened. Danny – the kid in the reflection – both reached up to touch his face. Danny hissed a little when he felt the pain of his fingers touch the sensitive skin.

"Andrew?" came a call.

"What the hell?" Danny whispered. He walked up the mirror and pressed his hand against the glass. The young boy in the reflection did the same. He blinked at the same time Danny did. He licked his lips when Danny did.

Then Danny got it. He grinned – watching the boy in the mirror do the same – and snapped his fingers. "Possession." Danny shook his head and snorted. "I can't believe I…"

He trailed off as something because really obvious. He looked down at his hands – the little boy's hands – and turned them this way and that. There was something very different about this. Always before when he'd possessed someone, it had felt like he was wearing some kind of a human suit. There was a very definite 'not right' feeling to it.

This… there wasn't that feeling like he was wearing a suit. These fingers felt like they were his. Only he knew they weren't. He had fifteen-year-old fingers that were covered in small scars and calluses. These fingers were soft and smooth and belonged to a little kid.

"Andrew!" There was a sharp knocking at the door and it opened. Danny spun around to stare at the woman who poked her head around the door. "God, boy, answer me when I call you." The woman had a sharp, pointed nose and owl-like brown eyes. Her hair was done up in a tight bun.

Danny just stared at her, confused. Then he looked around, searching for the boy she was calling.

Her hands went onto her hips and she stalked into the room. "Oh, don't start with me, Andrew. Why aren't you dressed yet? Your uncle will be here any minute!" She grabbed Danny by the shoulder and jerked him around to face her. "What are you playing at?"

Danny blinked and stared at her, his mouth moving aimlessly a few times. "N-nothing," he stumbled. It was obvious she was talking to him. He had to be this 'Andrew'. The question was: who was she? "Sorry?"

The woman shook her head and sighed. "Well? What are you just standing here for? Get yourself dressed!" She turned him around and pushed him towards the closet. "And _nicely_, Andrew. Not one of those costumes again. We need to _impress_ your uncle, not make him think we live in a mental hospital."

Danny nodded vaguely and took a few steps towards the closet before catching sight of his reflection in the mirror again. He hesitated, staring into eyes that were far too young. He couldn't help but wonder what was happening to him – where he was.

"Andrew." The voice of the woman sounded exasperated. "Now, please. Then get yourself downstairs for breakfast."

There was the sound of a door closing. Danny glanced over his shoulder at the empty bedroom. The woman was gone.

Danny spent another moment staring at his reflection before wrenching open the closet doors. Somewhere between the Superman uniform and the Batman outfit was a nicer-looking shirt. It had at least a dozen buttons. In Danny's book, that meant it was a 'nicer' shirt.

He peeled off his pajama top and buttoned up, then rummaged through the drawers until he found himself a pair of pants. Socks went on, then a pair of shoes he'd found on the floor. Then he found himself stuck, sitting on the floor and staring at his newly tied shoes.

"What the hell am I doing?" Danny whispered. "I need to get out of here, that's what I need to do. Not get dressed and eat breakfast." Without standing up, Danny closed his eyes and reached for his ghost powers. There was a scary moment when nothing happened, but then he felt that reassuring rush of energy.

When he opened his eyes, they were an eerie glowing green. He struggled for a moment, searching for the person he was possessing, trying to figure out how to get himself out of the kid's body. With a scowl, he gave up, crossing his arms over his chest. "Well, that didn't work."

On a whim, he reached out and passed his hand through the floor. He relaxed a bit at the knowledge that at least _some_ of his ghost powers were working.

Pushing himself to his feet, Danny crawled across the bed and pushed the curtain aside. Outside the sun was shining and only a few white clouds were scurrying across the sky. He didn't recognize the buildings, though.

"Darn it, Andrew! Get your butt out here! And you'd better be dressed!"

Danny wrinkled his nose and sighed. "Fine," he muttered. He slumped off the bed and walked across the room, pulling the door open and headed out into the hallway. Then he paused, a bit stumped. "Uh…" He looked both ways down the hallway, unsure which way to go.

The carpet was worn nearly through, the few pictures on the walls had cracks in the glass. Two other doors leading to other rooms were partly open, showing their dusty innards.

"Andrew."

Danny turned towards the voice and found the woman standing in the hallway, one hip up against the wall. She was studying him, a strange look on her face.

"You feeling okay?" she asked, walking towards him and kneeling down. She grabbed his shirt and then froze. "You buttoned your shirt up. When'd you learn to do that?"

Danny glanced down at his shirt. "Um-" He struggled to come up with something to say.

The woman smiled at him and patted his cheek. "That's good, though, that you did that. I'm proud of you, Andrew. Come get some breakfast."

As she got up and started down the hallway, Danny shook his head. "I'm thoroughly confused," he muttered. Then he followed her, glancing down at his fingers now and then to flex them. He was waiting for the glove-like feel to come back so he could go back to his own life.

The end of the hallway opened up to a small living room and an equally small kitchen. The windows were clean but scratched, the kitchen cabinets dinged and well worn with use. The woman was putting big scoops of oatmeal into bowls and carting them over to the table.

Danny made his way over to the table and settled down in a chair. The woman set one of the bowls in front of him. "Don't make a mess on your clean shirt." She sat down in the other chair with the other bowl, blowing carefully on the oatmeal.

"Oh, stop staring at me and eat your oatmeal," she said after a bit, making Danny start in surprise. He hadn't realized he had gotten trapped in watching her. "You're going to be awfully hungry if you miss breakfast."

He grabbed his spoon and started to eat. The oatmeal was actually very good – warm and coated with a tinge of cinnamon. He was nearly halfway through the bowl when he noticed the woman had set down her spoon and watching him with a tilt to her head. He stopped and gazed at her.

"You've picked a good day to act normal, kiddo. Your uncle will be impressed." She smiled and picked up her spoon again.

"Marsha!" came the shout from the door. It sounded like a large, angry man. "You here?"

"Oh, that's your uncle." The woman grabbed the half-eaten bowl of oatmeal from in front of Danny and whisked it away. "You be on your _best_ behavior, you hear me Andrew? We need this and I can't have you ruining it. You just smile and be quiet." She pulled him off his chair and brushed the front of his shirt. "You heard me?"

The way she met Danny's eyes meant she was waiting for an answer. Danny nodded.

"Marsha! You open this door right now!"

"I'm coming!" she shouted over her shoulder, got up, and vanished out of the kitchen.

Danny opened his mouth and closed it a few times, looking around. The idea of just leaving was sounding _very_ tempting – finding his way back to his home and throwing a punch or two into Vlad's face, just to annoy him – but that would mean dragging this kid's body along with him. And it sounded like the woman needed him, at least for now.

So although he found himself staring out the window at the sunshine, imagining himself on his way home, he didn't move. He waited for this 'uncle' to return, along with the woman he was coming to think was called Marsha. If this kid was letting him borrow his body for awhile, he could at least do the kid a favor and make it through this meeting.

"This trailer's getting worse and worse," came the man's voice, much closer than before. "I swear, Marsha, you need to find yourself a proper husband and get yourself a house to keep."

"Yes, Tom," the woman said as she lead the man into the kitchen.

He was exactly as his voice sounded – large, powerful, and extremely male. His barrel chest was probably large enough to cage a mid-sided dog. He was wearing a blue suit and had a newspaper tucked under his arm. Danny instantly got a bad vibe that raced from his toes up to the tiny hairs on the back of his neck. The man's brown eyes scanned the kitchen and rested on Danny. "And you still have the kid."

Marsha tensed a bit. "Yes, Tom."

"I told you to put him in that institution." The large man stalked up to Danny, the floor trembling under his weight. "Look at those dumb eyes. A boy that can barely speak on his seventh birthday is never going to get anywhere. A girl, that'd be a dream. But not a boy. You still dumb, id'jit?" The man stuck his finger in Danny's face. "Still think you're a superhero?"

Danny pulled back, confused, but a few puzzle pieces falling into place. The woman's comments about being able to button his shirt and acting strange were making more sense.

"Look at his face. He doesn't even understand me, I don't think. You're never going to find a husband with this leech on you. Why can't you get rid of him?"

The woman came around the large man and set her hand on Danny's shoulder. "I told you, Tom, I can't afford one of those places for him. Besides, he's my re-"

"Don't need to _afford_ it," the man leered. "One bullet would do it. I could even spot you for it."

Danny stared up into the man's eyes, his mouth dropping open slightly. Was he serious? When the feel of the woman's arm pulling him back and away from Tom registered in his brain, Danny realized that this was no joke. Anger flared in his gut.

"Andrew, why don't you go play in the living room for awhile," Marsha said quietly into his ear. "Let me talk to your uncle."

Danny stayed where he was, staring at Tom, until the woman physically pushed him away. He stumbled sideways a few steps, then made his way into the living room and plopped down on the couch, watching the man's every move.

"My stupid sister, giving him to you. I'da done what was right years ago," Tom muttered darkly.

"I know," Marsha said quietly. "But you're not here to talk about Andrew. Please, Tom." She waited until she had the man's attention. "Sit down for a while, Tom. I'll get you a coffee."

Tom dropped into the chair Danny had recently vacated and dropped his newspaper onto the table. "I don't want coffee. Just get to it, Marsha."

"I'm about eight hundred short this month," she replied. Her chin was tucked down, her eyes focused on the floor.

Silence filled the small house for a few moments.

"God damnit, Marsha," Tom roared. "How'd you run through all that money so fast?"

"I got sick," She answered softly. "The doctor was expensive. Please, Tom. I'll be on the street… I got nobody else to turn to…"

Tom reached into his pocket and grabbed his wallet, pulling out a check and starting to scrawl on it. "You're earning this money, woman," he snarled. "I'm gonna make you earn every penny of it."

Marsha just stared at the floor, not answering. When Tom threw the check onto the table, Marsh visibly flinched. "Just let me get Andrew set up," she whispered.

Tom stood up, knocking over his chair, and stalked down the hallway. The entire house shook. The woman made her way over to Danny and knelt down in front of him, quietly running her hand through his hair. Her eyes were puffy and red. "You just sit quiet and don't listen, you hear me? You stay here."

Then she got up and followed the large, angry man out of the kitchen down the hallway. A bedroom door closed softly, followed by a bunch of sounds.

Seven-year-old Andrew probably would never have known what those sounds meant. Danny did, and it made him sick. He got up and stalked over to the kitchen table, grabbing the check and reading the name on it. "Tom Matterson, I'll make sure you pay for this."

Then he stopped, double-checking the date. "1997? What the hell?" He picked up the newspaper and unfolded it. "September 18th, 1997?"

Suddenly, his stomach gave a little flip as Vlad's words came back to him. _The idea is that you can leap from point to point throughout your life. This machine is going to make you do that._

His mouth was a bit more open than before. The newspaper dropped back down onto the table. "I went back in time?" he whispered. He shook his head, not quite believing it, and looked around for another way that he could check it. When nothing met his gaze, Danny hesitated and stared down the hallway. The noises were still going strong.

"I'll be back," he whispered, reached for his ghost powers, and vanished.

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><p><em>Remember to vote for your favorite in the Ficmas in July contest! http : / www. ficmasinjuly. org/submissions. htm_

_Thanks!_

_-Cori_


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